


infatuation

by Blownwish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, implied jjbek, obsessed Otabek, otayuri - Freeform, stalker Otabek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 13:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11921457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: He had spent his life, for the last six years, like this. He was tethered to his laptop when he wasn’t on the ice, dreaming of the day that he would see him in person again, finally see him again, face to face. Oh, god, what would he even say?“You should tell him you’re an obsessed stalker.”





	infatuation

**Author's Note:**

> A Tumblr anon gave me this prompt: _Voyeurism, specifically Beka creeping on Yuri somehow. Shower, changing, bedroom idk. Just Beka pining hard and taking things too far and maybe getting caught._
> 
> My post seemed to go over okay, so I'm posting it here.

He liked to watch. He liked watching dancers from his DJ booth, watching competition from the bench, watching Yuri Plisetsky on Instagram. Watching Yuri Plisetsky on YouTube. Watching for Yuri Plisetsky on anything with his name that popped up on Google alerts.

He had spent his life, for the last six years, like this. He was tethered to his laptop when he wasn't on the ice, dreaming of the day that he would see him in person again, finally see him again, face to face. Oh, god, what would he even say?

“You should tell him you're an obsessed stalker.”

Otabek didn't appreciate Jean’s humor. He had rolled off the mattress and fell back into his own bed, immediately checking his alerts - and found two new Instagram posts. “Thank you, Jean.”

He was up, he was next to Otabek's bed, and Otabek was suddenly wishing he had picked up his phone, instead. “Wow, a new tshirt. Tiger with a bow tie? Peachy. What is he, fifteen?” Otabek gave him the middle finger. “Heard he's going into Seniors this year. Awfully young, don’t you think?”

“You're not subtle.” Apparently he was in _Japan_ now. (Why Japan?)

Jean squeezed his shoulder. “And you’ve got a problem.” Otabek pushed his hand away. “Fifteen, Beks. He's a kid.”

++

He agreed to be his friend. He agreed, he shook his hand, and that was that. He couldn't stop smiling and suddenly Otabek didn't even care about getting gold because he was staring into those blue green eyes. Couldn't stop drowning in the lilt of his voice. Couldn't stop wallowing in the air of his presence. It was enough just to exist around him. God, he was so beautiful. More beautiful in person because he could smell the Chanel and and feel the pressure of his gaze like a weight. This strong, beautiful creature - Otabek didn't even know what to say in that cafe. Apparently he didn't have to say much of anything. He could just listen. And watch.

Otabek watched him as they strolled out of the cafe, watched the way he tilted his head and caught the light in his eyes and smiled. It was perfect. He was perfect, so perfect. He wished he could take a picture.

That night, after he walked him to his hotel, Otabek locked himself in his room and stayed up for hours.

God, that boy really was just so, so…. God…. Otabek groaned as he tapped the keyboard with one hand.

++

“So what's he like in person?”

“Hello, Jean. How are you? Congratulations on winning gold.” Jean rolled his eyes. “And yeah, he's remarkably similar to all the videos and photos in your bookmarks. Spitting image.”

Otabek turned in his swivel chair. Jean coughed because he couldn't get back in Otabek's face when he was trapped on a Skype screen call, several time zones away. Too bad. Otabek liked containing JJ in a screen. It was like keeping him in a box. A box he could open and close whenever he chose.

“He's easy to rile up. Sent you some links.”

Yeah, he saw those - mostly third party video of JJ doing some low grade sexual harassment. “Did you have to touch him, Jean?”

“It was a tap on his butt. I thought you'd get off on it.” No. No, he _did not_. “Anyway. You get my package?”

Otabek was glad all Jean could see was the back of his chair. “Yeah.” He pressed the underwear to his nose and breathed, deep. It smelled musky, sweaty -- he was going to have to end this call soon. Very soon.

“You're welcome.”

Otabek sighed. “I'll make it up to you.” He turned around and waved a hand around. “I got to go.”

“Whatever you say, buttercup.” Jean smirked. He acted like a fool but he wasn't a complete idiot. Otabek wished he was, sometimes. It would make things easier.

++

He's showering in the locker room. He's showering. He's wet. He's naked. Water is dripping off his body like a thousand, thousand lovers’ fingers slipping over his sweet, tight flush skin, and Otabek can't stop imagining what he tastes like. He wants to be a water drop. He wants to be the water drop that slipped into his open mouth as he turned to face the stream and become a _part_ of him, fuse into his body and stay with him, forever.

Oh, god! He's just standing there, half hard with a towel around his hips and Yuri will be able to see him if he turns his head and happens to look. He can't - no. He can't see him because seeing Otabek means everything changes. Seeing him means Otabek will not be able to watch. Will not be able to hold his image in his mind and keep him there. Seeing Otabek means he has to give up this moment: Yuri showering in the locker room. It would've been his prize video. His favorite. He would've put it on his phone. On his cloud account. Backed it up on a CD.

He doesn't want to leave. He doesn't want to stay. He wants to hit a nonexistent pause button. He wants to go incognito when he's got no screen. He wants to lurk. To watch. To control this experience.

“Otabek!” Yuri smiles and Otabek can't help but smile back. “Hey, I don't mind if you wanna come in. Those other guys are such freaks, you know?”

He nods and he walks in. He turns his back, he takes off his towel, he prays to a god he doesn't believe in: _Please don't let him see me hard_.

“Hey! You want my shampoo? It's almond. Great stuff. You'll love it!”

Oh, thank you. Otabek nods and he reaches without turning around and he breathes in the scent. It's so good. So, so good. It's perfect. And he's hard as a rock. It's killing him. 

“Great stuff, huh?”

“Yeah.” His voice breaks. “It’s fantastic.” He's so close to him. So close he could turn around and touch him, feel him, taste -- “The best.” It is pure hell.

JJ ‘happens’ to pass the stall. “Hey, we share showers with the women's team?” But there are no accidents. Only opportunities. Jean watches Otabek as Yuri curses and snarls. Smiles as Otabek pulls at his dick once, twice, and _comes,_  while Yuri punches Jean in the gut.

He will have to thank Jean, again.

++

“So, Plisetsky and you…” Jean was waiting to board the 9:30 to New York. Isabella was showing off her ring and Otabek was downing another round of Advil with a mouthful of ionized water. “That was one hell of an Exhibition show.”

“Congratulations on the bronze.” The pills always stuck in his throat if he didn't have food to chase them down. “Even though you didn't deserve it.”

“You got what you wanted, though, right?” Jean tilted his head and nodded behind Otabek. At _him_. “The Ice Tiger of Russia, eating out of the palm of your hand?”

“It - “

“Otabek!” Suddenly Yuri was looping his arm in his and all his words were gone because Yuri took over all his senses, overwhelmed and overrode everything he meant to say as he beamed up at him. “Gimme your Instagram before you go. I'm gonna stalk you!” Jean saluted and turned toward the boarding gate. “Good riddance.” Yuri snorted as he pulled Otabek toward the seats. “Take a selfie with me, first.”


End file.
